


It's All in the Wrist

by cinder1013



Category: Cain Saga and Godchild, Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: M/M, Pregnant strife mentioned, Strife making mishchief, Tea, cupid being frustrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinder1013/pseuds/cinder1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cupid has been working for years to get Cain and Riff together. Little did he know, his rival Strife, has been working to put together a different couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All in the Wrist

**Author's Note:**

> An odd mash-up, I know, but I always say, everything deserves a little Strife. 
> 
> _Hey, who you callin' little?_

**crash**

“Shush!” 

'Who me?' Strife gestured, blinking innocently. 

'Yes, you,' Cupid's glare accused. 

Sighing, Strife flopped his arms in a 'wasn't like I meant it. I'm sorry. You know that. Why you accusing me anyway? C'mon Cupes! Ya' lurv me.'

How he conveyed all that information in a simple arm flop had to be some type of spell, despite Strife's protests to the contrary. Instead he looked back on the two men having tea. For years he'd been working on this couple. Strife thwarted him at every turn, the dumbass. He seemed to think that just because now they were **both** god of Love and Mischief, that he knew what he was doing. As if. Just who was the senior love god here? 

Oh, a teapot moment. Perfect. Cupid ever so subtly edged Oscar's hand upward. Now to push Cain, just a little, not too much, to reach for the teapot at the same time. Oh, just beautiful. And, no-

Strife looked toward the door. 

Fuck all!

Young Mary Weather burst through the door, racing into the room with less than ladylike grace, her long blonde hair bouncing behind her. “Cain, Cain,” she yelled. “There's been a murder! Lots of blood and everything! Right in the alley! Can we go see it? Can we?”

Cain pulled back his hand. 

Oscar dumped the teapot all over his chest. “Ah! Oh! Help!” 

“Let me, sir.” Riff stepped forward with a towel and deftly removed the teapot, while also cleaning away the worst of the soaking. 

“Mary, Mary, help me, tend to my wounds,” Oscar begged.

“I think not!” she told him, imperiously, her hands on her hips. Tossing her head to the side, she eyed him suspiciously, the ribbons on her dress flouncing. 

“Perhaps we should remove you to another room, sir,” Riff told him, “so you may remove your shirt.”

“Yes, please do. That's a horror my very young sister should **not** see.” Cain stood. “Come Mary, let's go for a walk and leave Oscar to his wardrobe.”

“We'll go see the murder?” she asked, her eyes alight.

“I suppose we shall.” Indulgently he waited for her to put on her hat and cape, and then ushered her out. Stopping in the doorway, he called, “we'll be at least an hour. Don't ... wait up.”

“Wait up, Cain?” They heard Mary asking as the door shut. 

Riff deftly undid Oscar's shirt.

“I thought they'd never leave,” Oscar told him. 

“Less talk, more fornicating. We only have an hour before Master Cain returns.”

“You bastard!” Cupid hissed at his junior love god. 

'What?' Strife gestured, innocent to the extreme, hand pressed to his chest, wounded. His eyes teared up and he almost sniffled. 

Ignoring Strife's theatrics, Cupid looked back in on the scene. 

“I am burned you know.”

“Would you like for me to pause to tend to your wounds? Or spread myself over this table?”

“Please do make yourself as like cream across the table. I'll help you in the endeavor in but a moment.”

Riff paused in removing his waistcoat. “If you make a comment about toast, I will be forced to remove you from the premises.”

“Toast?”

Oscar found himself tackled to the floor, his pants indecently rent open, the buttons torn from their stitching, and a quite miffed Riff Raff straddled his thighs, glaring down. Riff's long fingers wrapped themselves around Oscar's pole, dancing along its velvet skin. 

“Shouldn't you, rather, umm, well, get, pants, that, naked ... like ... rather ... oh, that's good. Do more of that.” Thrusting up, he shoved himself into Riff's work-calloused hands, bitten with burns from digging up graves and carrying trappings. “Oh! We should ... should ...”

“You should enjoy this before anyone comes in and finds you fornicating with the butler.” Riff's eyes danced with glee, even as his hand sped up on Oscar.

“Uh!” Pushing himself up to his elbows, he grabbed Riff's hand. “Stop.”

“What?”

“I'm not going to come alone like some kind of earl.” 

Riff frowned. 

“I'm a disgrace after all. Fornicate me. Preferably in the bedroom.” Oscar grinned at his lover. “Come on. I won't get out of bed all day after this. You can return again and again for a fifteen minute sample. If there's anything that's true about me, I'm easy.”

Riff unfolded himself, standing. “Go upstairs and I'll follow.”

“Oh, no! I know you. You'll stop ten times along the way to direct the house.” Scrambling to his feet, Oscar held his trousers closed over his erection. “Lead the way or find the bedroom door locked when you get there.”

“I say, is this really necessary?”

“If there is anything I have learned from seducing ... all the people I have seduced over the years, it's theatrics.”

“You needed lessons?”

“Not many,” Oscar conceded. “Get moving.”

With a small smile, Riff scooped up his jacket off the floor, collected Oscar's shirt, and preceded his lover out of the room. 

“Well,” Strife whispered, rubbing his hands together, “worked well, didn't it?”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“I have been working for years to put Cain and Oscar together!”

“Cain? But he's like ... weird-boy. He likes to poison people you know. It's kind of ... weird. Not that I have anything against poisonings, but weird.”

“Oscar thinks he's hot.”

“He thinks Riff is hot too. And the maid. And the girl at the tavern. And the guy he plays cards with. Oscar is an equal opportunity slut. I **love** him!”

“You've fucked him, haven't you?”

“Yup!” Strife grinned. “Touch this match and I'll rip your wings off flyboy. I promised slutboy there that he'd find love.”

“Fine. Fine. Whatever.”

“After all, he is the father of my baby.”

“What?!?”

Strife shrugged. “He's fertile. Not my fault. I thought we should steer him away from women and impregnable males. Yet another reason not to hook him up with Cain. Kiss-kiss. Great workin' with ya! Not!” And he disappeared in a puff of black-glitter sparkles.

“A pregnant Strife,” Cupid moaned, “the world is coming to an end. What the hell am I going to get for him as a baby gift? Fuck!”


End file.
